I suck at this

This should be no surprise to the two, maybe three of you who check this site periodically, wondering if I've come up with anything new. Well, I have, I just haven't bothered to type it up and post it. I at times get real excited about this online venture, the possibilities for conversations, etc, but when it comes down to it, I just hate sitting at the computer, and so it doesn't get done. Plus there is guilt. Let me tell you a story, a short one: two years ago, I was unemployed and had a ton of time on my hands. Someone I know who works in a retirement home mentioned that there was a nice old French lady there, Mme Thiebaut, who seldom got visitors and who would love to have someone come visit her and speak French with her. So I went, every week. I read to her, I wheeled her around in her chair, took her outside--it was September, beautiful out, and I found out she hadn't been out of doors for over a month. I enjoyed my visits with her, and so did she. Then Christmas came, I went home for a month. I meant to go back, I really did. But then I missed the first week, then another, then... I never did go back. Chiefly, because I felt guilty that I hadn't gone back right away and couldn't face the explanation, even when I was pretty sure an explanation wouldn't really be necessary. That's kinda how I feel about this blog.

To the two or three of you out there, let me say this: I wish I were a better person. Or, that I liked computers more, so that I wouldn't mind being on here, typing away like this. But if I were a better person, I wouldn't care whether or not I liked computers, I would just be dedicated and faithful--so.

What I've come to realize is that typing on a keyboard, looking at a screen and posting online is diametrically opposite to the way I work, to what I want to work on, to what I think about, to what I am, so that there is a great reconciliation work that needs to be done before I can embrace this truly.

I clued in a while ago that, if I didn't write about not writing, I would only write half as much as I do. Which is a circuitous way of thinking and a little dizzying but it's fun, you should try it. Anyway, I've now carried this particular neurosis into the blog world: the self-examining, self-loathing, inadequate blogger syndrome. Somenone (Augustine?) said that the unexamined life isn't worth living. I say, the over-examined life isn't much of a life.

Well that's enough of that. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

Lord, have mercy.

To attempt to make amends I will write another post right now.